Travels Through Love And Time by Hall Volkoff Christine

Author:Hall Volkoff, Christine [Hall Volkoff, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Night Publishing
Published: 2010-12-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

We were lucky, and were given a very nice table on the verandah, far enough from the lobster tank that we did not have to feel like Nazis on a rampage looking into the faces of the soon-to-be-eaten.

Linda was looking at the menu. The piano in the background was playing Patsy Cline’s 'Crazy', a song I could definitely identify with.

The Closerie des Lilas is what the French used to call an American Bar, which means that they serve cocktails and somebody plays 'As Time Goes By' on a grand piano at least twice a night. That night, the pianist was playing 'Crazy', and he was talking directly to me. Next thing I knew, he was going to play 'Is That All There Is'?, and the night would be wrapped up after discussing Paris traffic, a few aging Hollywood stars and the political career of Shirley Temple.

Alison used to lapse into small talk diatribes in order to avoid reality, and I had developed an aversion to it. Trivial conversations are only acceptable when both participants are madly in love with each other. Romance was designed by God to give life to the ordinary, for all of us who can’t afford to watch the sunset on the Canal Grande from a gondola in Venice every evening.

We decided on oysters on the half shell, salads, champagne to “celebrate” as we both said, even though we had nothing to celebrate. Linda looked gorgeous and suave as she turned around to greet someone.

“Pierre! I didn’t know they allowed you in here!”

“Lindy! Where the hell have you been?”

Pierre looked like a typical French businessman on a drunken night out. I was trying to overhear their conversation, but it was not easy as Linda (Lindy?) was facing the other way. Finally, he kissed her on both cheeks and left. Linda turned back to me half smiling, but with a desperate sigh, as if things were getting a little hard to handle.

“What’s happening?” I asked, made bold by the waiter opening our bottle of champagne, a great luxury in California, but a regular, if expensive, commodity here.

“Oh, that’s Pierre. He is a friend of Julien’s. I haven’t seen either of them in a long time.”

“He calls you Lindy?”

“Yes, that’s how friends call me. I like it better than Linda Louise.”

“So what’s going on?”

I was not giving up, remembering how hard it was to keep conversations going with Alison.

“Well, nothing, that’s just it.”

“What do you mean Lindy?

I accentuated the nickname humorously and with a trace of irritation. I was upset that in the first place she had said “My friends call me Lindy”. Was I to be excluded from this very special group? She had been secretive about what had just gone on with Pierre, and had not even introduced me to him.

Her dialogue with Pierre was none of my business. My curiosity was betraying ulterior motives that I was ashamed of. It was all coming out with sarcasm, designed to get what I wanted without being honest about it.

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